Lifting
by dearemmahansen
Summary: Wren, a first year at Hogwarts, is excited to go to the school where her idols Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley go. She can't wait to learn magic in classes taught by her great aunt Minerva. But the Triwizard Tournament is taking up Wren's first year... and not in the way she expects.
1. Prologue

Prologue

I was not your typical child.

Well, _magical_ child. No exceptional muggle child can even compare to a normal magical child.

I was not your typical magical child.

I never snatched for my parents' wand when I was little. They would leave it on the kitchen table by accident, and come sprinting back in fright ten minutes later. It would be in the same place as always, never moving. I would stay in the same place as always, no scratches, no burns, and definitely no seared off hair.

To the unobservant eye, I would appear indifferent, perhaps even opposed to magic.

But that was never, will never, or could ever be the case.

Whenever my great aunt Minerva visited, I attached myself to her leg. Aunt Minnie, as I called her, was the most fascinating person I knew. Whenever she came to our flat in London, Aunt Minnie would immediately sit in the living room and wait for me to hop in her lap. I was intrigued by her tales, by her wonders. She told me stories of her wildest classes, of spells gone wrong. She would demonstrate the latest spells that she learned to my delight. I was infatuated by her magic, and hers alone. My aunt was the only person that ever really fascinated me. That is, until a boy named Harry Potter joined her class.

I grew up with the name Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the wonders. No one defeated Voldemort.

Which gives another reason to call me an oddity: I didn't say He Who Must Not Be Named or You Know Who.

Only Voldemort.

My parents would hush me in public, and scold me in private. It just seemed like the most ridiculous thing to me- if Voldemort is gone, why must we still stay in fear of his name?

But Harry Potter was a source of constant curiosity to me. He was an anomaly, a strange occurrence that never should have existed in the first place.

When I was eight, Harry Potter first appeared at Hogwarts. He was sorted into Gryffindor, my family's house. Well, my mother's side. Mum, Grandmother, Aunt Minnie- they all were in Gryffindor. Dad, Grandad, and Uncle Derek were all in Ravenclaw. Except for Aunt Lucy, she went to Beauxbatons.

Aunt Minnie was constantly exasperated that year whenever she traveled to our flat. Everytime we asked why, she would respond with the same three words: "Potter, Granger, Weasley."

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley.

They were Aunt Minnie's favorites, along with Neville Longbottom. I suppose she saw through the students that acted like angels in front of her, and devils outside of class. She would tell me how they reminded her of herself when she was younger, when she was on the Quidditch team and top of her class. She would sometimes hint at a rebellious past, but nothing more than a hint.

But Harry Potter became more and more famous throughout the years.

I received my Hogwarts letter, signed by Aunt Minnie, on November 1st, my eleventh birthday. I was elated, and my parents were ecstatic as well. We all expected it, of course. But a Hogwarts letter is something from a dream that I could never quite fathom into reality. The following June, however, my parents received the news of the dementors in Hogwarts. Soon word of Sirius Black's escape leaked into the Daily Prophet once more, and I read every issue after the first, the booming headline capturing every part of my brain: Mass Murder Sirius Black at Large Again.

Though not directly mentioned, I would find lines suggesting Harry Potter's interference with the whole event. Those fascinating me.

My parents were hesitant after the dementor fiasco, of course, especially after word got out that during the year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was an actual werewolf. Let alone the fact that Sirius Black had been inside Hogwarts, but Aunt Minnie of course calmed them, told them about the new safety precautions, and assured them that the werewolf was tame and quite a nice man.

They agreed after that.

And so after the longest summer of my life, filled with Bertie Botts eating, wand getting, and robe fittings, I was ready for Hogwarts. And I couldn't wait a minute.


	2. Chapter 1: Travelers and Tension

Chapter 1

"You remember what to do?" Mum asks, fussing with the latch of my trunk.

"Yes," I say, rolling my eyes. "Mum, really, I have to get on the train."

"Who will you sit with?" Dad asks, clasping my shoulders and staring me in the eyes.

"Another first year," I say.

"Always the safest option." Dad nods and pats my shoulder. "You know I met my best friend the very first train ride."

"You might have mentioned it about, you know, a hundred times."

"Alright then," my dad says ruffling my hair and chuckling, "We love you."

"Love you too," I say, hugging my parents. " I'll write to you two."

"We'll send Yandel." Ah, Yandel. Our wonderful owl who is hatching her eggs soon. I wish I could be there to see it, but Hogwarts awaits!

"Bye!" I exclaim, sprinting towards the train with my trunk in tow.

"Goodbye!" I can hear my parents. I turn around and catch a quick glance of my parents waving frantically. I climb aboard and look down each hallway, filled with a sense of excitement. I take a deep breath and turn to the right, trekking in search of an empty compartment. I thought I had gotten on early enough, but perhaps not…

Aha! I slip into an empty compartment, settling on the left side window seat. I gaze out the window, but can only see King Cross Station's brick wall.

I hear chattering down the corridor, and turn to see what the fuss is about. I catch a glimpse of three heads: black and spiky, red and messy, brown and bushy; but they're gone almost as soon as I can register them. I sink back into my seat and stare at the wall across from me, a light giggle escaping my throat. That must have been the Golden Trio.

Me, on the Hogwarts Express, with the Golden Trio!

"Excuse me," a voice says, startling me from my stupor. I whip my wand out from the pocket on the side of my trunk and point it at the stranger standing at the door of the compartment. It is not like I could do anything with the wand, but still, I thought I looked quite impressive with my wand in hand.

The girl steps back in surprise. "Sorry, I just wanted to know if I could sit here."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I blush furiously, sticking my wand back. "You just surprised me. Of course, you can sit here!"

"Thank you," the girl says, letting out a short sigh of relief. I notice that she's very pretty, with long black hair and blue eyes set on pale skin. "All the other compartments are full." She sticks out her hand in a very formal fashion, brushing her hair from her shoulders. "I'm Celeste Bauer."

I shake her hand. "Wren Gordon-McGonagall. Bauer, like Milo Bauer? The auror?"

"That's my father," Celeste says. "McGonagall, like Minerva McGonagall? The teacher?"

"That's my great aunt," I say, smiling.

"Wow," Celeste says, grinning, partially in a stupor. "Is your family always in Gryffindor?"

"Half Gryffindor, half Ravenclaw," I say. "So I don't know. What about you? Isn't your father a Gryffindor?"

"Yes, but Mother's a Hufflepuff." Celeste scratches the back of her neck and shrugs, "My family's a bit all over the spectrum."

"Me as well," I say, grinning. "Are you excited for the Sorting?"

"Ecstatic," Celeste said, beaming right back. "You?"

"I don't know," I say sheepishly, looking down at my hands in my lap. "The sorting hat also seemed a bit creepy to me… a large hat that reads your thoughts and decides your home for the next seven years."

Celeste laughs, a clean tinkling sound that echoes pleasantly around the compartment. "I suppose, if you put it that way."

"Bloody hell!" Someone exclaims, and Celeste and I turn quickly to the door of the compartment. The door slams open, and a boy tumbles in, falling onto the seat next to Celeste. I stare down at the boy as Celeste cocks her head at him.

"Sorry about that," the boy says, sitting up and brushing his sandy blond hair back. He's normal looking, with hazel eyes and olive skin. "Some blokes in the next compartment are rude. Especially that prick with the slicked blond hair…" He shakes his head to end his sentence. "Anyway, I'm Ash. Can I sit here?"

I nod slightly, still slightly taken aback by his way of entrance. "Do you, um, have a trunk?"

"Yeah," he says, poking his head into the corridor and pulling a large, worn trunk into the compartment.

"I'm Celeste," Celeste says, recovering first. "Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Wren," I say.

"Nice to meet you both," Ash says, nodding at each of us.

"Are you excited for Hogwarts?" Celeste asks him, gesturing out the window. I look excitedly just in case, but alas, the only visible things are fields.

"Obviously," Ash says, a small snicker escaping his throat. "I _know_ that I'm going to be in Gryffindor, what about you guys?"

"We're not sure." Celeste shrugs.

"You seemed positive about Gryffindor, is it your family's house?" I ask.

"No," he replies. And that's it; he offers no means of elaborating on his answer.

A couple hours and one trolley visit later, I'm nearing the end of my third Chocolate Frog. Dusting off my cards, I take bite of head.

"What the bloody hell are these?" Ash asks, staring at the waving picture in his hand. I recognized Nicolas Flamel easily, seeing as he was one of the first in my collection.

We had a few conversations as well, and Celeste and I have learned that Ash is a muggleborn.

"They're cards," Celeste says, showing him her newest, a pristine Salazar Slytherin. "You collect them."

"Like American baseball cards?" Ash says, quirking an eyebrow.

"Um, sure," Celeste says, catching my eye and smirking.

I examine mine, proud of the fact that the three were new additions to my lengthy collection. Beedle the Bard, Ignotus Peverell, and Mirabella Plunkett. I had bought dozens of sweets of the trolley and stashed them in my trunk in preparation for the school year. One thing was for sure- no matter what house I was in, I would not be running out of Fizzing Whizbees anytime soon.

"Attention." A girl sticks her head into the compartment and looks at us, her chestnut hair falling across her shoulders. "We're nearing Hogwarts, I recommend that you dress in your robes now." The girl quickly departed to inform the next compartment.

I nod and look down at my plain shirt and jeans. "We just pull the robes over our normal clothes, right?"

"I think," Celeste says. She opens her trunk and pulls out black robes, slipping them over her head. "I hate these, but that's what you get when you have two older sisters." She sighs. "Hand-me-downs."

Ash opens his trunk and pulls a robe that was clearly just purchased a week or so ago at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Do they just go over your head?"

I laugh and twist the robes so they're facing front before tugging them around Ash. "There, like that. It's like your fancy muggle _bathrobes_."

"I see," he says, adjusting his jeans.

I put my robes on and peer out the window at the darkening horizon.

"I think we're stopping," Celeste says, poking her head out into the corridor.

I throw one last look at my trunk and exit into the corridor, following the line of bobbing heads. I can pick out the returners; they all have their house uniform on.

"Firs' years!" A voice calls, and I whirl around to see a ginormous man with a thick beard that disappears into his matching mane of hair. He is supporting a lantern, his booming voice echoing in the eardrums of each student on the platform. I smile. This must be the Rubeus Hagrid that Aunt Minnie occasionally mentions.

She once mentioned that he was on good terms with Harry Potter, and that was what really snagged my attention.

"Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's shout rips through the chatter again, so I try to push my way towards him.

"Hello," I say once I reach Hagrid. He's a lot taller when he's standing right next to me, and I'm a bit taken aback by his sheer size.

"Hello," he replies gruffly. "Firs' year?"

"Yes," I say, shifting my stance.

Hagrid's attention doesn't rest on me for long, however. More people congregate around me, and Hagrid nods to them. "Alright, follow me."

Hagrid starts off down a steep, narrow path from the platform. Grumbles and moans fill the air as we follow, tripping over ivy or roots. Finally we reach a deep black lake, and are greeted by the sight of barely tethered worn out boats.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid shouts as people make their ways to the boats. Celeste and Ash come up to me, and we sit in a boat while staring wistfully at the towers across the lake. Another boy with dark short hair joins us in the boat, tripping over the rope in his hurry to find a seat.

Hagrid settles into his own personal boat and with one last look around to make sure all the students are in a vessel before bellowing, "Good, now- FORWARD!". The boats glide forwards on their own accord, and I clutch the edges of the boat in wonder as I stare at the water beneath us. Majestic ripples are created as we stream across the dark waters. I glance up at the clean pink and orange sky. Then, out of the mist, the great turrets of Hogwarts castle appear, towering over the sprawling grounds. The way up to the castle is lit by torches, and I grin despite the others in the compartment. Who wouldn't if they were seeing something that they almost previously believed to be a figment of imagination?

It seems like merely seconds, but soon enough we've reached the opposite bank. Well, an underground harbor underneath a cliff. Hagrid gestures for us to climb out, and we do.

"Oy, you all, follow!" Hagrid starts up a passageway, and I can barely keep up on my gangly limbs. The passageway is brief, though, and we're quickly on the grass in front of Hogwarts. One girl gasps loudly. The boy from the boat trips over nothing and falls into Ash.

Hagrid leads us to the great wooden doors, and nods. "You lot ready?"

I am most definitely not.


	3. Chapter2: The Sorting

**A/N**

 **I just want to thank my beta reader for being so patient with my unstructured writing schedule and weird style. You're the best. I hope you're enjoying everyone!**

Chapter 2

Hagrid pushes the door open, and reveals the large entry hall of Hogwarts. I take a slow breath, astonished by the size and beauty of the room. The ceiling was far higher than I imagined and one hundred times more beautifully decorated, sparking gasps in the group around me.

A figure approaches, and I smile as I recognize Aunt Minnie. She walks towards us with her hat bobbing, a small smile on her face. The smile is equivalent to any other person's jumping up and down with joy, so I'm happy to see that she's almost as excited for the Sorting as I am.

"Hello, first years," Aunt Minnie says, nodding to us. "I'll take them from here, Hagrid. Thank you." He nods, and disappears into the far side doors.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I teach transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Follow me, please," Aunt Minnie says, turning, her robes fluttering. The first years lumber after her, quietly chattering. I look around in wonder, surprised by all the splendor. Hogwarts was beautiful, and I was still so surprised that I would be attending this dream of a school for the next seven years.

Aunt Minnie ushers us into a rather cramped chamber off of the main hallway. "Welcome to Hogwarts," sh announces in a slightly shrill voice. "The starting banquet will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is very important because at Hogwarts, your House is your family. You will have classes with your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room. The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has a magnificent history and has produced distinguished witches and wizards. At Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while rule breaking will result in a loss of House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points gains the House Cup. I hope that all of you will be a credit to your future Houses. The Sorting will take place in a few moments in front of the rest of the school. I would recommend smartening yourselves while you are waiting." Aunt Minnie catches my eye, finally, and gives me a small nod before promptly turning and leaving the room.

One boy, Dennis, launches into a tale of how his brother, a third year, is best friends with Harry Potter. I know exactly who Dennis' brother is, due to Aunt Minnie's exhausted retelling of two years ago. I also know that Dennis' brother is not best friends with Harry Potter.

My stream of thought is interrupted by a piercing scream, and I whirl around to see the source of the sound.

About twenty ghosts stream through the walls, talking and laughing. Some of them sport ghastly wounds, some are just… strange. One's head continues to loll on the ghost's decapitated neck.

I stare along with Ash and Celeste, who have seemed to make their way to me through the clump of first years. The ghosts look at us and murmur a bit more. I catch a few words such as "small", "weak looking", and "plain".

I feel personally insulted.

"Not now, Friar," Aunt Minnie says, suddenly appearing in the doorway and scolding the ghost who had just spoken. "These are worthy young witches and wizards."

I smile, Aunt Minnie has a hard exterior, but she is a very empathetic person once you get to know her.

The ghosts rumble and float through the opposite wall, some drifting through students who immediately shivered. It was like the temperature had dropped ten degrees and dunking each of us in a bucket of ice water.

"Anyway," Aunt Minnie starts, clearing his throat. "If you would follow me, please." She starts off into the hall, and the clump of us shuffle after her. I scuff my shoes as I do, not prepared for what's to come.

The doors at the end of the hall burst open, and we're met with thunderous applause from four long tables. Students sit, grouped by robe color, cheering and leaning on the four house tables tables. I crane my neck, trying to make out faces, but I can't see anyone familiar. Just blank faces, smiling and watching. I hate the eyes on me.

"First years," Aunt Minnie announces. "Gather round." The group of us shuffle up front, towards the dais where a long table sits, stretched and wooden. A panel of teachers sit behind the grand table. In front of us looms the glinting bespectacled face of Albus Dumbledore.

Aunt Minnie carries out a small wooden stool, and upon it, a rather old looking had that had clearly been through a lot. The dark fabric had been beaten and worn, the top curled from not just style but from overuse. The poor hat needed a break from whatever it's been through.

I stare at the hat intently. Was Aunt Minnie going to say something, or…

The brim of the hat moves in the slightest, and I raise my eyebrows. The tip tilts, a rip near the bottom opens wide in something practically resembling a twisted mouth.

 _ **A thousand years or more ago,**_

 _ **When I was newly sewn,**_

 _ **There lived four wizards of renown,**_

 _ **Whose names are still well known:**_

 _ **Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,**_

 _ **Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,**_

 _ **Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,**_

 _ **Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.**_

 _ **They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,**_

 _ **They hatched a daring plan,**_

 _ **To educate young sorcerers**_

 _ **Thus Hogwarts School began.**_

 _ **Now each of these four founders**_

 _ **Formed their own House, for each**_

 _ **Did value different virtues**_

 _ **In the ones they had to teach.**_

 _ **By Gryffindor, the bravest were**_

 _ **Prized far beyond the rest;**_

 _ **For Ravenclaw, the cleverest**_

 _ **Would always be the best;**_

 _ **For Hufflepuff, hard workers were**_

 _ **Most worthy of admission;**_

 _ **And power-hungry Slytherin**_

 _ **Loved those of a great ambition.**_

 _ **While still alive they did divide**_

 _ **Their favorites from the throng,**_

 _ **Yet how to pick the worthy ones**_

 _ **When they were dead and gone?**_

' _ **Twas Gryffindor who found the way,**_

 _ **He whipped me off his head**_

 _ **The founders put some brains in me**_

 _ **So I could choose instead!**_

 _ **Now slip me snug about your ears,**_

 _ **I've never yet been wrong,**_

 _ **I'll have a look inside your mind**_

 _ **And tell you where you belong!**_

The Great Hall rings with applause, and Celeste tugs on the sleeve of my robe. "That was really cool. My dad didn't say how we were sorted- I thought we would have to take a test!"

I laugh and watch as Aunt Minnie unrolls a long piece of parchment.

"When I call out your name," she says, making eye contact with a few of us,"You will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

Celeste tugs on my sleeve again, and I sigh softly before she speaks."How will we know which table is which?"

"We'll see," I reply, perhaps snapping a little bit.

"Ackerley, Stewart!" Aunt Minnie's voice rings out.

A small boy walks forward, his face pale. He almost looks as if he'll pass out. He places the hat gingerly on top of his head.

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat bellows, making Celeste startle and poor Stewart nearly topple out of his stool. What I would only assume is the Ravenclaw table bursts into applause, and little Stewart goes off to join them.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Bauer, Celeste!"

Celeste squeezes my shoulder, fingernails digging into my skin through my robes before she pulls away, slowly and carefully approaching the hat.

It sat there for a second before it readily spouted an answer.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
Celeste casts me a small smile before troping over the cheering yellow table that readily welcomed her onto a bench. I breathe a little. A little less likely for me to be in Celeste's house now, but okay.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Burke, Imilda!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Byrd, Gus!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

A rascal-appearing mousy boy pushes past me in his eagerness, causing me to stumble into Ash. Bloody hell!

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screams, and Dennis eagerly bounds over to the whooping scarlet embellished table. I felt a twinge in my heart- I wanted that.

"Dobbs, Emma!"

A tall girl with messy brown hair sat underneath the hat, carefully tugging it repeatedly. It took second, but the hat eventually yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Creevey kid, Dennis, cheered along with his new housemates as the clearly uncomfortable girl sat down, face beet red. I wince in sympathy.

The ceremony starts to blur around me, and I'm unable to differentiate between the different houses.

"Gordon-McGonagall, Wren!"

I walk to the dais, murmurs whispering and weighing me down. They obviously recognize my second surname- how could they not? My great-aunt is standing right next to me. They start to search our faces for similarities.

I don't want to give any people here that satisfaction.

I aggressively pull on the hat, jamming it over my ears in frustration.

 _ **Fascinating.**_

 __Fascinating?! It's disconcerting, having this voice infiltrating my head.

 _ **I'm not here to make you uncomfortable.**_

 __You made that other girl uncomfortable.

 _ **That wasn't me, that was her thoughts. Now, this is about you, and your house. And let me just say- difficult… very difficult. Plenty of courage, you see, hidden away in the back of your mind. It's hard to find, but it's a treasure.., and yes, there's the Gordon brains front and center. You had a great mind. You would accomplish great things in Ravenclaw.**_

 __Ravenclaw? ...Really?

 _ **Not a fan of Ravenclaw?**_

 __It's just…

 _ **Your McGonagall is showing through.**_

 __I look out, and I can tell I'm taking a while. In fact- I must be taking the most time yet. I squeeze my eyes shut.

 _ **And what's this? Hmmm…. A Slytherin perhaps?**_

 __My heart nearly stops. A Slytherin?

 _ **Not a fan, I see? Then better be…**_

 __"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouts, and I open my eyes to a grinning table of lions. Aunt Minnie offers me a small smile, and I take the hat off and bound over to the Gryffindor table. I sit between Dennis and a dark haired, pale skinned chubby boy. At the last moment I throw a look over at the Hufflepuff table. Celeste has a small crestfallen look on her face, and I look away.

The Sorting continues as I look down my hands, only looking up when I hear "Pattison, Ash!" And the responding "GRYFFINDOR!"

I clap along with the rest of my House as Ash joins me, sliding into the seat besides me.

"Congratulations," I whisper.

"You too mate," he replies, turning to watch the tail end of the ceremony.

Once every first year has joined a table, the famous Albus Dumbledore stood to face all of us. My breath caught in my throat. Aunt Minnie had spoken of him before, of course, but I'd never met nor seen Dumbledore in person before. Now, it feels unreal.

"I have two words to say to you," Dumbledore says, leaning forwards. "Tuck in."

Food magically appears on the empty plates in front me. I lunge for a porkchop as chatter starts to fill the hall.

I'd never felt more at home.


	4. Chapter 3: Food and Fortune

Chapter 3

"So!" Dumbledore's voice echoes throughout the hall, but not in a menacing way. I think back to a couple years ago, when Mum and Dad took me to a Quidditch match. It wasn't a big one. Holyhead Harpies easily dominated the Heidelberg Harriers, but I was so swept up in the match and how the announcer's voice echoed throughout the stadium and into the ears of every fan.

I look around as Dumbledore pauses for effect, trying to get a sense of who's around me. I see all the new first years in a clump, but farther down, I can spot the heads of the golden trio. Oh, Merlin's Beard.

"Now that we are all fed and watered," Dumbledore continues, beaming. "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notes. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anyone would like to check it." I dismiss this quickly- I've never owned any of the toys that were just mentioned. Not my type, the trick toys. Dumbledore's smile returns a bit, clearly trying not to poke fun at his announcement. "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year." I sigh. I've heard wonderful things about Hogsmeade from my parents and Aunt Minnie. Dumbledore nods once before going on, "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

I hear a loud " _What?!_ " And I turn around. Harry Potter stares at Professor Dumbledore, gaping in shock. He looks around at other Gryffindor students, who are also in disbelief.

Dumbledore went on, despite the various sounds of protest from around the Great Hall. He has a small gleaming smile behind his half moon spectacles, a hidden joke that I lean forward to try to hear. "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teacher's time and energy- but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts- "

All of a sudden, a rumble resonates around the Great Hall, and the entrance doors bang open.

A man stands in the shadow of the doors, leaning on a large staff. He's covered in a large, flowing black cloak. Lightning cuts across the ceiling, and brightens the stranger's face. He takes off his hood and in doing so, lets down a grizzled shock of gray hair. He makes his way towards the teacher's table, and I catch a glimpse of a rare sight- Aunt Minnie, looking slightly off guard. On every other step, a heavy clunk sounds when his foot hits the ground. As everyone in the hall watches, he rounds the table and makes his way to Dumbledore. More lightning streaks across the heavens, and gasps litter the hall. The man's face is grisly and etched with lines, resembling a gnarled stump of wood, dead for ages. His skin is latticed with scars, leaving no part untouched, and, in doing so, leaving no part perfectly human. His mouth rips across his face, and his nose is missing a rather fair portion. His eyes are the oddest part of him, and I can't stop staring at them, in the way that you can't stop staring at an awful accident. One of his eyes is heavy lidded and beady, dark, and darting around frantically. The other is large and round, almost pushing his lids up in comparison with the opposite. The eye is electric blue, bright and unusual. The blue one never blinks, just rolling practically on its own accord and occasionally behind entirely, leaving mere white in the socket. It's practically sickening.

The man reaches Dumbledore, and reaches out a hand to shake. Dumbledore grasps his hand, murmuring something that I can't make out. The stranger shakes his head in response, and replies, to which Dumbledore nods and gestures behind them to the staff table. The man sits and pulls a plate of sausages towards him, sniffs it, spears it with a knife that he pulls from his pocket, and eats. Aunt Minnie looks at him with half respect, and half disgust.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore exclaims, unfazed, "Professor Moody."

Silence fills the hall, even louder than before. No one claps except for Dumbledore and Hagrid, each applauding with heart. I continue to stare at this Moody man, in shock that this rag tag jumble of limbs was a new teacher here. If this man was the standard of a Defense Against the Arts teacher, than what were the teachers like before him?

Moody sips from a flask out of his cloak, ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice sitting right in front of him. His cloak lifts with the movement of his arm, and I can see a wooden leg peeking through the fabric. Clearly the culprit of the clunking steps.

Dumbledore clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the mumbling and rustling students in the great hall. "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year!"

"You're JOKING!" A boy exclaimed, looking like an older version of Ron Weasley. He had an identical version sitting next to him.

I laughed along with everyone else in the hall. Ash throws me a confused look, but I look across the hall to catch Celeste looking at me, a worried look on her face. The phrase Triwizard Tournament sparks something inside of me, but I can't quite remember what it is.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore says. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…"

Aunt Minnie clears her throat. I have no doubt that Dumbledore told her the joke already, and already having heard Dumbledore's secondhand jokes through her, I hoped he doesn't tell us anytime soon.

"Er- but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely." My mind stirs, and I startle. I have heard of this. I'd read about it in some of the books Aunt Minnie has supplied me with, and I heard it mentioned this summer in a whispered conversation between Aunt Minnie, Mum, and Dad.

"The Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore says, "was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities- until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued." Ah, this Tournament. I definitely knew about it. "There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" The Weasley twin said. I could hear others chatting with happiness.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore continues through the midst of voices, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age- that is to say, seventeen years or older- will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them." Untrue. I can't be the only first year bitterly thinking that I should have arrived here sooner. "I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." Dumbledore glances over to the Weasley twins, each of which are sporting positively murderous expressions. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Every student stands, and I can tell that every student under seventeen is harvesting the same kind of contempt inside as I am. Ridiculous! Perhaps I wasn't powerful enough to compete, but I know that others are! The age limit is quite frankly absurd, and I want to desperately fight it.

"What is this Tournament thing?" Ash asks, meeting up with me as we exit the Great Hall. We follow the stream of red and gold trim and the prefect shouting ahead.

"They participate in different challenges," I say, straining to remember the small paragraphs in my books. "And there's an overall winner…"

"What's the danger that Dumbledore mentioned?" Ash asks again, climbing staircases with me.

"I don't know," I say, my voice laced with bitterness. "I've never seen one."

Ash nods as we near the clump of other first years. The prefect is saying something, and I scoot closer to listen.

"The password is Balderdash," the prefect says, making eye contact with each of us. "The Fat Lady here will always ask for a password before entering. Make sure to remember the current password, otherwise you will be unable to enter the Gryffindor common room."

I nod along with everyone else, and the prefect turns to face the portrait behind him. It was a classic painting: a plump, lovely woman dressed in white, moving as she pleases and sipping from a wine glass.

A boy- the same boy that rode in the boat with Ash, Celeste, and I- approaches the portrait.

"Password?" The Fat Lady booms.

"B-balderdash," the boy says. The portrait swings open, and we all follow him inside quickly.

I look around in awe. The Gryffindor common room is majestic, decked out in red and gold. The fireplace glows with cosy heat. A tapestry of a lion rests on the wall, and carpet rests beneath our feet. Firelight flickers across each of our awestruck faces, illuminating our wonder.

"Wow," Ash breathes.

"Now then!" The prefect barks to the approaching Gryffindors. I scowl to myself. This boy was getting on my nerves.. "Up to your dormitories now, I'd expect! Move along now!"

After lots of grumbling, I separate from Ash and move to the girl's first year dormitory. I climb the stairs and enter…. And gasp.


	5. Chapter 4: Enemies and Eagerness

Chapter 4

"Wren."

"Hello," I say warily, shifting around the room, "How have you… been?"

Olive Greene makes eye contact with me as she perches delicately on the edge of her bed. The ruby red drapes of the four-poster spool around her, creating an almost menacing aura that fits the one she already has illuminating every nasty detail, "I've been well. I assume you have as well?"

 _Obviously,_ my mind screams. I'm _not_ dead. A lot better than she could say, "Yes."

Olive stretches and leans backwards, still keeping her eyes on me, "How's your family?"

My rage buckles beneath me, and I fight to keep my slim grasp on it as fury rises inside of me. She has no right to be asking about my family, that little- "They're fine." I make my way to the bed ladled with my luggage. Everyone else's are closed- they must be enjoying their first night in the common room, "I must say, Olive, I wasn't expecting to see you here… in the Gryffindor common room." I open my trunk, looking down carefully at my belongings, "I thought snakes belonged in Slytherin."

Olive's high-pitched giggle rings through the dormitory, "And I thought Squibs didn't go to Hogwarts."

"I'm not a Squib," I hiss quietly, distracting myself with the task of pulling out socks.

"Good to hear," Olive replies. She lays down, the bedspread wrinkling under the weight of her tiny build, "They're delivering your robes in the night. I know how… _easily_ you're scared, even by house elves."

My eyes burn, but I drop my trunk on the ground and slide to the foot of my bed, "At least I'm not a slave master- my family doesn't have house elves."

Olive refuses to answer, so I grab my pyjamas and close the hangings of my bed, changing quickly so as to not disturb the murderous snake outside. How did I not notice when Olive Greene was sorted into Gryffindor? I must have been distracted while I was walking to the Gryffindor table. She would have been right after me.

Four more girls come in, and they seem to occupy the notion that this will all be like a large sleepover. That we'll stay up late gossiping about people that we haven't even had the opportunity to meet.

I allow myself to learn the names of everyone. Besides Olive, whom I don't even spare another glance at, I room with Blythe, a sweet and quiet Scottish girl, Emma, a Muggleborn from Wales, Natalie, a painter who wasn't really into magic but was forced here by her parents, and Pearl, who merely said her name.

Afterwards, I preoccupy myself with sleep. I shut the hangings and crawled beneath the covers. If these are going to be my roommates for seven years, I truly hope that they wouldn't think that a sleepover was the appropriate way to spend nights. My ears are already blasted.

And if so, imagine the homework that would pile up.

"How was your first night?" Ash asks, walking with me as breakfast approached. It was our third attempt to stumble down to the Great Hall, and I already have a headache from the changing staircases and winding corridors. Finally, I believe we've got it.

Hogwarts seems even more beautiful with sunlight streaming through the windows and highlighting the moving staircases and portraits.

"Uneventful." I roll my eyes, "Except my childhood arch-nemesis is my roommate."

"Who and why?" Ash asks, with the appropriate amount of confusion in his case. Any emotion that Ash displays that isn't cockiness at half normal human amount is to be considered normal for him.

"Olive Greene." I clear my throat, "Her family were death eaters, and killed my grandparents."

Ash stares at me in great horror, at least for him, "And she's in Gryffindor?"

I nod solemnly.

"I'm sorry," he says as we enter the breakfast hall, "But where else is she supposed to go?"

I scoff, "Away from me."

He nods slightly and follows me to the Gryffindor table. A hand grabs my shoulder, and whirls me around.

"Wren!" Celeste grins and hugs me, "How is Gryffindor? How are you?"

"I'm great," I say, laughing, "And Gryffindor… the verdict is yet to be decided. How's Hufflepuff, and how are you?"

"Fantastic," Celeste breathes, eyes wide, "Everyone is _so_ nice. And we're right by the kitchen, so the prefect Cedric snuck in some brownies for us." Celeste closes her eyes and shakes her head, "They were _so_ good."

I laugh again at the amount of ecstasy on Celeste's face, "Well, I can't wait to see you in classes."

Celeste nods and parts, heading to the Hufflepuff table where she sits next to an older, very handsome boy with brown hair and a wide grin, who I realize must be the Cedric Celeste was speaking of.

I sit between Ash and Emma at the Gryffindor table. I feel like I fit in here, with my new Gryffindor robes. They fit me perfectly - even if it's preposterous that house elves still work for us, house elves do good work. The red and gold lion emblem fits comfortably over my heart, like a spiritual anchor lifting me up instead of tying me down.

"This all looks delicious," Ash says, looking around excitedly at the array of eggs, sausages, and muffins. Blythe nods slowly, nibbling on a piece of toast.

Dennis Creevey leans across the table towards Ash, "Are you excited for classes?"

Ash shrugs, "Are you?'

Dennis guffaws, "Not in the slightest."

I stare at both of them. They are in freaking Hogwarts. They'll be doing freaking magic. They'll learn spells and potions and how to fly on broomsticks. Why in the world are they not excited? I'm so excited, I think my bones may fall apart.

"Mail!" Pearl says, sliding next to Dennis, her attention fixed above us. I look up to see dozens of owls spiraling in, flying across tables and dropping letters to delighted students. One drops in front of Dennis, who accidentally knocks it into the pumpkin juice pitcher.

Yandel, the family owl, droops dangerously close to the bacon. I grab him before he can take a piece and release the parcel from his feet before letting him fly again. His brown and grey speckled wings beat unevenly as he ascends to the ceiling. Another owl, this one sleek and gray, drops in front of me and nips my hand, waiting for me to untie the letter attached to his leg. I wince and let loose the letter, giving the owl it's escape. I open my parcel first, excited for the contents.

I pull out a box of cookies, Mum's own recipe. Attached is a note from my parents:

 _ **Dear Wren,**_

 _ **We are so excited that you are at Hogwarts. We love you so, and do hope that your first day is as magical as you dreamed it. We can't wait to see you at Christmas.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Mum and Dad**_

I chuckle and unwrap the cookies, passing one each to Ash, Dennis, Emma, and Pearl. I open the letter next, unsure who it was by.

 _ **Dear Wren,**_

 _ **I am very pleased to see you here, and in Gryffindor. I do hope that you will join me for tea today at three, after your first Transfiguration lesson.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **Minerva McGonagall**_

 _ **P.S. The bird bites.**_

I smile. That was about as cordial as Aunt Minnie got in letters.

"Are you ready for…" Ash checks his schedule, "Charms?"

"Absolutely," I gush, "I've been so excited… probably the second most class I'm excited for."

"Me too," says Emma, "From the books I've been reading, it sounds fascinating."

"It's a double period," Ash adds, "With Ravenclaw."

I nod, "I don't have any enemies in Ravenclaw… yet." Dennis, Emma, and Pearl laugh as Ash delves deeper into his schedule.

"Then lunch… half hour study period… Transfiguration… three and a half hours of free time… dinner… then free time." Ash looks up, pleased, "This doesn't seem too hard."

"That's because it's your first year, knucklehead." Pearl rolls her eyes, "Wait until your O.W.L.'s, or even better, your N.E.W.T.'s."

Dennis chortles, "My brother said first year was easy enough, but second isn't to be trifled with."

"I won't be trifling with anything," Emma says, sighing, "I'm too excited for the magic."

"Me too," Ash says, "I'm sure it's better than that fake stuff Muggles have." He and Emma high five in agreement, a Muggleborn status salute.

I nod as people start to stand, "Well… see you at class!" I sprint off to the dormitory, careful to go up the right moving stairs and overly anticipating my first Charms class.

 *****AUTHOR'S NOTE*****

 **Hey guys! So this is my #1 priority right now, tied with my Percy Jackson fic A Sole Breath. After that it's my Avengers one, then hopefully soon I'll get my Pain is a Fancy Word for Power up and coming. Please follow, favorite, and review, and I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 5: Informants and Insecurity

Chapter Five

"Now," Professor Flitwick says above the sounds of quills scratching, "Our first lesson is a simple charm- _Lumos._ " With a flick of his wand the tip lights up, illuminating the already bright classroom even more. I stare at the illuminated wand, entranced.

"I want you to pair up into partners," Flitwick says, looking around at us. I watch as Ash pairs with Dennis immediately, and feel a twinge of anxiety in my chest for a few moments before Emma taps me on the shoulder and smiles. I smile back gratefully in return, glad to not be struggling to find a partner on the first day.

"Alright," Professor Flitwick squeals from the top of his pile of books, "Remember to flick."

I turn to face Emma, smiling, "Okay… so, I have no idea how to do this."

"I watched Professor Flitwick's wand," Emma says, "It's a simple movement. Like this- Lumos!" She snaps her wand up and down, lighting the tip for a few seconds before it sputters out. I gaze at it, still nonplussed by her easy magic. Emma laughs, a bright red blush crawling up from her neck. Why is she embarrassed? She's a natural witch! "Try it!"

I grip my wand tightly in my hand. I used to take violin, and the teacher would use a baton to conduct. Once she accidentally lost grip, and it flew across the orchestra and hit me on the head. It still haunts me, and I'm determined to not let that happen to me with this will be no wand chucking in this class if I can help it.

"Lumos," I murmur, cracking my wand up and down. It springs back with a faint flickering light on the end. I smile as it goes out, fascinated.

"Yes!" Emma quirks the corner of her mouth and lifts her own wand, "One, two three- _Lumos!"_

Our wands whip back and forth, and ignite at the tip. They stay put, glowing and highlighting our textbooks. I let out a laugh of excitement as Emma and I stare in wonder at our wands.

"Bravo, Miss Dobbs and Miss Gordon-McGonagall!" Professor Flitwick comes up next to our desk, even shorter looking from the view of our elevated platform, "You've done it!"

Emma balances her wand between two books on the desk so it stands on its own, shining on everything in the room. It seems to brighten as Flitwick proclaims, "Twenty points to Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor side of the room cheers as the Ravenclaws sigh, still maneuvering their wands. Emma claps me on the back, a bit harder than comfortable. The girl is taller than me though - it must be an accident.

I haven't felt this proud in a while.

After Charms, Ash, Dennis, Emma and I make our way to the Great Hall. The tables are filled with food, and I eagerly fill my plate. Ash and Dennis are going on about a Ravenclaw that had done the wrong gesture and lit his textbook on fire (deducting five points from his House). Emma has her Charms textbook propped in front of her, reading about the history of the Lumos charm.

I am utterly bored by my tablemates.

So, imagine my surprise when Hermione Granger slides into the spot next to me. She puts a small amount of food on her plate before smiling at me. I blush as she looks at me, having been sneaking glances at her and her easily noticeable hair.

"Hello," she says, "I'm Hermione."

"I'm Wren," I say, trying not to stumble over my words. I don't think I succeeded. A hint of red makes its way into my face, and I bite my lip, trying to force my embarrassment away.

"You're Professor McGonagall's niece, correct?"

"I'm her great niece," I say, shifting. Of course, that is how she knows me.

"She's wonderful," Hermione says, smiling, "You're very lucky." She sips pumpkin juice from her goblet, "You're a first year?"

"Yes," I say, becoming bolder, "You?"

"Fourth year," Hermione says wistfully, though I already knew this, "My first year was lovely. The teachers were kind, the classes were fascinating…" she sighs, the air of melancholy around her nearly palpable, before focusing back on me, "So, Wren, you seem like a good Housemate. Also, since you are the _great_ niece of McGonagall, making you a practical celebrity here at Hogwarts." _This was coming from her, "_ So, may I be your informant?" I furrow my eyebrows, and she laughs at the confusion on my face, "I know who's good and bad here. My friends Harry and Ron know things like how to skip class and things, but I don't know if you're interested in those things. I also am good at homework helping." Hermione scratches the back of her neck, still avidly watching me, "I know this is a bit upfront, but I also know that you helped earn twenty points in Charms by being the first to complete Lumos."

"That was really just my friend Emma," I say sheepishly.

"But still," Hermione says, "I would love to get to know you."

"I would love for you to be my informant," I say, laughing slightly, "I'm honestly very flattered." I quiet for a second, then take a breath, "Aunt Min- Professor McGonagall told me about you. You're one of her favorite students."

Hermione looks taken aback for a moment, before coughing, the tips of her ears looking a bit red. She nods, "Well then, that's brilliant." She smiles softly, "Anyways, classes are about to start. I have to get to Muggle Studies." She stands and brushes off her robes, checking her secured wand in her pocket, "Do you want to study with Harry, Ron, and I tonight?"

"Yes. I would love to!" I say quickly. Hermione nods, smiles, and gets up from the table and heads out of the great Hall.

"Who was that?" Ash asks, leaning over to me. Dennis and Emma eye me curiously as well.

"Hermione Granger," I say.

"Hermione Granger?!" Dennis exclaims, eyes widening, "Colin told me about her! She's best friends with Harry Potter! And she's the smartest witch here!"

Emma stares at Dennis, "But she's a fourth year?"

"Yes," Dennis says, "And a genius." He shakes his head, "Who would have known that a muggle born could be such a powerful witch?"

Ash and Emma huff as their Muggleborn status club is threatened.

"We've got a half hour study period," Ash says, pulling out his ever-present schedule.

"We could explore!" Dennis suggests animatedly.

"That sounds tiring," I interject.

"Do we even have homework from Charms?" Ash asks.

"We have to fill a roll of parchment with an essay about the history of Lumos." Emma gestures to her book, aggravated, "Honestly, do you not pay attention?"

"No," Dennis mutters.

I stand and stretch, yawning, "Well, I'm going to go and read in the library. Anyone want to join me?"

"No thanks," Dennis says, "I'm going to run around the dungeons and try to freak out some first year Slytherins." Where does he even get these ideas?

"I'll be sleeping in the dormitory," Ash adds.

"I'll be working on the essay in the common room," Emma finishes.

"Alright." I smile, "See you in thirty minutes."

I exit the Great Hall, setting off in the general direction of kids carrying books.

Wow. I knew Hogwarts was amazing, but their library- just wow. I could never have imagined anything so incredible. There are hundreds of shelves packed with books of all shapes and sizes. I gasp as I see books floating from shelf to shelf, replacing themselves in their proper place. Hogwarts truly feels like home now.

"Bloody hell!" I murmur, patrolling the shelves. I take down a book at random, just out of fascination. _Why Boils Will Kill All Wizards, "_ Oh dear." I put the book back quickly, fearing that it might have a curse that gives me boils. From Aunt Minnie's stories I know that there is a restricted section, but I also know that there are some books that should not be there for students. I feel like this one should be reshelved there.

Finally, I find one that interests me: _The Life of Artemisia Lufkin, the First Female Minister of Magic._ I take it out from the shelf, and look for a table. Unfortunately, the only one I can find that isn't full is already occupied by somebody. I cautiously sit down and open the book, throwing a few looks at the girl across from me. She's wearing a Slytherin tie and headband, along with the Slytherin emblem on her robes. Her long brown hair spills around her face (proving her green and silver headband ineffective) as she pours avidly over her book.

She looks up, and I don't look away fast enough - I catch her eye.

"Hello," she says warily.

"Oh, um, hey." I blush nervously, "I'm sorry for staring."

"I don't know if you were quite staring," she says, her previous harsh tone breaking away slightly, "My name is Micayla. Micayla Volumen."

"Wren." I say. She holds out her hand and I shake it softly.

"Are you a first year, Wren?"

"Yes," I reply, "Are you?"

She nods, "Have you been enjoying your classes so far?"

"Sort of," I say awkwardly. Well, who am I kidding? Every word that is currently coming out of my mouth is awkward, "I've only had one. But there's an awful lot of homework for Charms - I assume you haven't had it yet."

Micayla shakes her head, "I've been to History of Magic. It's dreadfully boring, I do wish you luck."

"Thank you," I say, and my eyes are once again drawn to her tie. The stark contrast between hers and my own. I can't imagine that it's common practice for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be having such an amicable conversation like the one we're having.

Micayla tilts her head, her long hair shifting, "You're wondering why I'm so nice to you, considering our Houses' history."

"Well, yes," I stutter. Though I wouldn't quite call her demeanor _nice_ yet. She's rather clever, to have figured that out immediately. Maybe I'd call this… interest?

"I know who your great aunt is," she says matter-of-factly, "I know about your family's history. If it's any consolation, my family were never Death Eaters." I sharply inhale, "And I'm one of the only Slytherins in my family." She leans forward slowly over the table, her brown eyes sparkling, "And I'm not evil. Just know that I would be either a very good friend, or a very bad enemy." She leans backwards and pulls her hair into a bun, "Since you're a Gryffindor, I'll be seeing you in our double period Transfiguration class next." She stands and leaves the library, still holding her book. I barely catch a glimpse of the cover - _Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More)_

I exhale shakily. One thing for sure - that Slytherin is scary.

I open my book and stare at the page, unable to focus on the page. Micayla's shaken me - and I don't even know what I did wrong. I don't know if she's my enemy or my friend, and I don't know what either would be like. Well, I would assume that it won't be good to be an enemy of _anybody_ who reads a book titled _Curses and Counter-Curses_ and the rest of it...

I stand, leaving the book at the table as I make my way to Transfiguration. Great - halfway through my first day, and I'm already rattled to my core.


	7. Chapter 6: Aunts and Arguments

Chapter 6

"Now," Aunt Minnie says, patrolling down the rows between our desks, her robe swishing behind her,, "Transfiguration is not only the art of turning something into something else, it's the art of immaculate change."

She holds up a quill from her desk. It's a normal quill, gray with a brownish tip. I see nothing peculiar about it, but I know something is going to happen. There is an expectant silence in the classroom. Aunt Minnie has always been good at captivating an audience.

"There may be nothing out of sorts about this quill," Aunt Minnie says, echoing my thoughts exactly, "But maybe there is now." She waves her wand over the quill, and it changes into a notebook with a smooth gray cover and a brown ribbon marker. Some people in the class gasp, but I don't. I've seen Aunt Minnie do transfiguring dozens of times. It is not that I don't find transfiguration interesting, but I have already seen quite a bit of it.

"Wow," Emma says, leaning over to me, "I didn't know people could do that."

I nod carefully, "Yeah, it's pretty cool, isn't it." It's a lie, but a harmless one.

"So for your first class," Aunt Minnie says, making eye contact with each of us. She looks at me last, with a hint of warmness in her eyes, "We'll start small. Change your length of yarn into candle." She passes out small bits of yarn, placing on each desk with an air of primness.

I look at my yarn, and determinedly tap it with my wand. Nothing happens. I am filled with disappointment. I knew going to Hogwarts did not mean the wave of a wand and a few words, but it is still frustrating when you can't get a spell to work. Especially is your aunt teaches the class you're failing in.

I look around the room at the Gryffindor and Slytherin students waving their wands in haphazard directions. Everyone seems to be having the same problems as me. My gaze stalls on Micayla, who looks up at me. Her eyes flash with something I can't identify before she returns to looking at her yarn and waving her wand.

I continue to tap my yarn, and before long I can tell there is a difference. It's got a different texture, and it is more round. It seems to be have a waxy feel. It's not quite a candle, bet it's better than nothing. I pull out my quill and dip it in ink, before scrawling a simple _Wren_ on a piece of parchment. I then attach it to my candle like yarn with a safety pin (I always keep them on me), and I raise my hand. At the same time, Emma, Micayla, and a Slytherin boy that I don't recognize also do so.

Aunt Minnie calls on the boy first, who's name is apparently Mr. Pritchard. _I didn't know people had first names like Mr._ I think amusedly. 'Mr. Pritchard' holds up something that resembles a candle as she glides over, and nods with approval, "Five points to Slytherin."

Next she swoops to Micayla, who proudly shows her yarn-turned-candle. Another five to Slytherin.

After Micayla was Emma, who is grinning with uncontained joy. Even Aunt Minnie, the master of the stone cold expression, lessens her frown by a millimeter, "Five points to Gryffindor."

Then she turns to me, and heat rushes to my cheeks with pressure, "Um." I hand her my-candle-that-looks-much-more-like-a-piece-of-yarn-than-the-other-people-who-showed-theirs.

She examines it for a second, before sniffing in a mixture of approval and disappointment (if that's possible), "Very nice, Miss Gordon-McGonagall, five points to Gryffindor."

"You wanted to have tea?" I ask Aunt Minnie after approaching her at the end of class.

"Yes, yes." She smiles, a very rare occurrence, and ushers me into the office connected to her classroom, "How have your classes been, Wren?"

"Good," I say, sitting in the chair across from her desk. Aunt Minnie bustles at the dresser behind the desk, "Though I've only had two."

"I see," Aunt Minnie says, setting a cup in front of me. I blow on the tea inside softly as I look at her, "Well, I'm glad that you are enjoying Hogwarts so far. It would be a shame if it was a disappointment in any way. I know how much you were looking forward to coming here."

I nod, a small smile creeping over my face.

"Have you met Hermione yet?" Aunt Minnie asks, sipping her tea slowly.

"...Yes?" I reply, slightly suspicious. How did she know about Hermione? "Why?"

"Has she invited you to anything?" Aunt Minnie asks, blatantly ignoring my question.

"I'm meeting with her and her friends in the common room tonight…" I trail off, my eyes widening in horrified realization, "Aunt Minnie what did you do?"

Aunt Minnie looks away.

" _Aunt Minnie_!"

"I may have - er - pulled a few strings from my favorite student." Aunt Minnie mumbles, for once not confident and loud spoken.

"You asked her _to hang out with me like a charity case_!" I snarl/shriek, my cheeks burning, "You made me _sound_ like a charity case, Aunt Minnie!"

"I knew how you admired them!" She shoots back, "I wanted to make sure that you had good role models instead of some random, insufferable hooligans!"

"I can choose my own role models!" I exclaim, shaking my head as I stand. My insides twist as the information starts to sink in.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were alright in your first year!" Aunt Minnie proclaims, changing tactics, "You were so excited that I wanted to make it an experience you were fond of."

"Maybe there's another way besides having another student _pity_ me," I bark. I stand and make my way to the door before turning back to Aunt Minnie. My heart squeezes as I look at her. She knew how much I admired the Golden Trio, yet there she was, having one of them adopt me as her sympathy pet.

"I'll see you in class," I mutter, and stalk away.

Unfortunately, Hermione is also at dinner.

"Hello, Wren!" She says cheerily as she taps my shoulder, "How was Transfiguration?"

"Rubbish," I mumble, focusing on my pot pie with vigor.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she says, her eyes widening a bit as she slides into the seat next to me, "How come?"

"Because I met with Professor McGonagall," I say smoothly, tilting my head to face her. Hermione's face is different - a cool mask of indifference, "She mentioned you."

"Is that so?" Nothing, not a hint of emotion. Was I actually talking to a Gryffindor, here, or just a Slytherin in disguise?

"When were you planning on telling me I was your charity case?" I spit, my wall of cool tumbling down, "That you _pitied_ me, and wanted to _help_ me."

"It wasn't like that at all!" Hermione's expression cracks as well, and her face is a clear ringer for distress, "Professor McGonagall just approached me and asked if I would just hang around you, make sure that everything was alright from time to time."

"Inviting me to meet with you and your friends is not 'hang around to make sure everything was alright from time to time'!" I shake my head. My throat is closing up, and my eyes hurt. I bet she doesn't actually want to hang out with me anyways, and neither do her friends - why would they, anyways? I'm just a puny. Little. First-year. But this isn't happening. Not here, anyway. I spot Ash, Dennis, and Emma coming in from the hall, and my resolve hardens.

"Wren-"

"Good luck with fourth year, Hermione." I make final eye contact with her, "You were one of my idols." I turn my back to her, and wave my friends down. I hear her stand and move down the table, but I don't turn back. Instead I fake a smile at my group.

"What was that?" Dennis asks, sitting across from me, "You guys were having a pretty heated conversation."

"Yes," Emma agrees, looking at me with a concerned expression, "You alright?"

"Mmhmm," I say, nodding at them,, "It's fine, just a small disagreement.."

It looks like they don't believe me, but like _good_ , _real_ friends, they respect that I don't want to talk about it.

"You guys excited for Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Ash whispers conspiratorially, just quiet enough that we all had to lean in, "We have that weirdo from last night."

"The one with the freakish eye and wooden leg?" Emma hisses, "He creeped me out so much!"

"I know!" Dennis agrees, shaking his head, "He's probably going to replace all our legs in class tomorrow."

"Gross," I snort, laughing.

I throw one more look over my shoulder to see what had happened to Hermione. She's sitting with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley of course, and she looks over her shoulder at me. Harry and Ronald follow suit, and suddenly I have three sets of eyes on me. I bite my lip - great, now I look like a charity case to all three of them. Just my bloody goal. I quickly turn away, back to Ash's, Dennis', and Emma's hushed conversation.

"What about that Triwizard Tournament?" Dennis asks, "Do you think we can enter?"

"Den, didn't you hear Dumbledore?" Ash replies, rolling his eyes, "You have to be, like, seventeen."

"I'm sure we can sneak in."

"Too risky," Emma seethes, "You might get detention, expelled, or lose all of Gryffindor's points! That's just a _completely_ and _utterly_ _idiotic_ decision."

"Spoilsport," Dennis mumbles, turning his face down and getting dangerously close to the potatoes.

"Whatever," I say, sighing, "How about we watch happily from the sidelines like normal witches and wizards?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Ash responds, jokingly.

One thing that I had learned -

Hogwarts was far different than I had expected it to be.


	8. Chapter 7: Voices and Viciousness

Chapter 7

I shift my books onto the desk, looking around. No one else seems as nervous as me. My hands are shaking so much that I have to wring them together to stop them from knocking something over.

"What do you think he's going to teach?" Ash asks, leaning over from his desk. Dennis twists from his seat in front of Ash, and Emma, who's beside him, turns to face us as well.

"I hope we can blow something up!" Dennis says excitedly, getting too hyped up and accidentally turning over Ash's open ink bottle, breaking the small container into fragments and spilling the contents all over Ash's desk.

"Moron," Emma sighs. Lifting her wand she exasperatedly tosses a, "Reparo." The bottle is uprighted and repaired, but the ink is still on the table. Emma looks to us, "Sorry. I don't know any cleaning spells."

"I don't think we'll be blowing anything up," I say in response to Dennis, "We're first years, remember. We're not Aurors."

"What are Aurors?" Emma asks, furrowing her eyebrows. I keep forgetting she's a muggleborn, considering how she's so good at magic. Better than me...

"They enforce the laws." Dennis says, "They find those who defy the Ministry of Magic and send them to Azkaban."

"Oh, like wizard police!"

"Uh, sure." I wonder what a _police_ is, and think amusedly that Dennis probably doesn't know either, by the tone of his voice.

"Where is he?" I ask, looking at the door, "The class started five minutes ago…"

"Sorry for the wait," a gravelly voice booms. A man pushes through the doors. It's theman himself - Professor Moody.

"I was held up with the biscuits in the Great Hall."

He clunks to the desk, and pulls a jar from his bag. As he passes by Ash's desk, he pulls his wand out and _scourgify_ s it without a second thought. Three cockroaches dance together inside of the jar he holds, climbing over each other and around. Dennis wrinkles his nose - he's apparently not a fan of bugs.

"Ran outta spiders," Moody hisses, slamming the jar violently onto the desktop, "So I have to resort to these disgusting insects."

"Aren't spiders insects?" Dennis asks, confused.

"No!" Emma exclaims, face contorted in horror.

"Listen up, first years," Moody continues, unscrewing the lid of the jar and carefully picking up a cockroach, "This is your first year at Hogwarts, your first year of magic. I understand that the Ministry expects your heads to be filled with mumbo jumbo such as simple spells and history of wars."

Ash snorts.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody screams, and I leap in my seat. His blue eye searches each of us eagerly, and I clench my hands into fists on my desktop.

"I think that the curriculum the Ministry has planned out is exactly that-bollocks. Instead, I'm going to teach you what it's really like when you're 'fending for your life out there, running and firing spells at enemies behind masks."

Dennis looks as if he's about to kiss Moody.

"Who here has heard of the Unforgivable Curses?" Moody asks, patrolling the classroom while cupping the cockroach in his hand. They poke at something in the back of my mind, but I can't seem to recall it. Well… except for _that_ one, but there's no way I'm raising my hand for it. Emma, of course, raises her hand, along with Dennis and a sprinkling of other students.

"Mr. Creevey?" Moody stoops in front of Dennis' desk, looming over with his cockroach inhabited palm right in front of poor Dennis' face.

Dennis gulps. "W-well, they're spells that are unforgivable, right? They're illegal."

"Correct, though I wouldn't mind more paraphrasing," Moody indulges, strolling away from the desk. I can see Dennis' shoulders practically go down four inches, "The Unforgivable Curses will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban." He whips around on his human heel, allowing the cockroach to stumble it's way to Moody's fingers before the professor grabs it back and pulls it back to his palm, the insect starting its looping trek again.

"The Unforgivable Curses have been banned since 1717. The penalty of using one on a human being is a life sentence in Azkaban." Moody's eyes connect with mine, and they glint with something that I can't discern, "Does anyone know one of the Curses?"

Emma's hand waves in the air, practically smacking against Dennis' equally exuberant hand. Almost my entire house is waving their hand, except Blythe, myself, Ash, and one of the boys named Grant.

"Ms. Greene?"

Olive sits higher in her seat, preening, "The Killing Curse," she says, her eyes flickering to me before quickly returning to face Moody. My throat closes. Of course she names that one.

Moody looks down at the cockroach exploring his hand, before watching Olive with intent. "Why don't we save that one for last, Ms. Greene," he says cooly, "Lead up to that." Olive's cheeks bloom scarlet. "Anyone else? Ms. Dobbs."

"The Imperius Curse," Emma says, not quite meeting either of Moody's very different eyes.

"Correct, Ms. Dobbs," Moody says, walking over to the desk and setting the cockroach on the surface. " _Engorgio_!"

The cockroach swells to five times it original size, incredibly menacing looking. Ash scoots back a little in his chair, shaken.

" _Imperio_!" Moody hisses. The cockroach straightens, and stands on its hind legs before swooping into a bow. A few girls giggle in the back of the room, before the cockroach leaps majestically from the desk and lands, unshaken, on my desk. I stare wide eyed at it as it looks back, blinking slowly. It backflips from my desk to Dennis', who shrieks, Emma's, who swallows forcefully, and finally lands on Pearl's. Pearl, who was laughing a few seconds earlier, gawks at the insect as it rolls on its back, doing something that can only be described as sit ups. I let out a laugh concealed as a cough, watching Pearl's horrified expression.

"Don't laugh at the bug," Moody hisses, and the cockroach pirouettes in mid air before landing, back right leg outstretched, in Moody's palm, "Will you laugh when I do it to you?"

Utter silence.

Wait… _when_?

"Total control," says Moody quietly as the cockroach repeatedly strokes its head, "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."

Dennis turns green.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," Moody continues, and I have a feeling that it could have something to do with Voldemort's era, "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength that not many have. Better to dodge than to be hit, if you can... CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barks once more, and Ash unintentionally slaps his tabletop, knocking over his ink bottle once more.

Moody quickly repairs it, before making eye contact with me. "Any other curses?"

A boy that I dimly recall from the boat ride to Hogwarts raises his shaking hand, saving me from answering. "Yes?" Moody calls.

"The Cruciatus Curse," the boy says, straightening in his seat with confidence as he says the words. I'm filled with dread. That doesn't sound good.

"The Cruciatus Curse!" Moody roars, dropping the enlarged cockroach into the jar on his desk and taking out another. " _Engorgio._ "

The carefully aimed spell hits the cockroach directly in the stomach, the insect swelling. "And… _Crucio_!"

The cockroach falls flat on its back, twitching and shivering desperately. My eyes widen, and I can practically hear the bug's screams. Dennis covers his eyes, Emma gasps, and Ash's eyes bulge. I can't look away. It's like watching a train wreck in a movie; all you want is it to stop, but you can't look away and not see what is going to happen, no matter how much you want to.

The boy who named the curse has no emotion as he watches it, just cool indifference stretching across his face. I can't help but feeling horror at his uncaring. How could someone be so horrible as to not care as they see this? I feel a surge of anger - this isn't right, not even to do it on a cockroach - _that kid's a monster,_ I think in one desperate moment, _and so is Moody_ -

"Stop!" Blythe calls out right before I was about to do something I probably shouldn't have, quivering in her seat, "Stop it!"Moody jerks his hand away, and the cockroach collapses on the desk.

"Pain," says Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too."

"Right. . . and the last." Moody continues, "You've already said it, Ms. Greene."

I hold my breath with the rest of the class.

"The Killing Curse."

My mouth twists into almost a contorted smile as something twitches in the back of my mind. _The Killing Curse._

Almost as if the bug could sense what was coming, the last cockroach plasters itself to the wall of the jar. Moody reaches in, seizing it and pulling the insect out as the cockroach begins to struggle.

The professor slowly raised his wand, eyes glinting. I felt my stomach churn, my contorted smile shifting into an outright grimace. _No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no_

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Moody thunders, and a bright green flash of light takes over my vision. I think it'll fade, yet it replays. Again. And again. The flashes of emerald fill my vision, playing on a twisted loop. My hands clutch my desk, trying to hold myself steady as the green invades my every thought. " _Avada Kedavra_!" I hear again, but this time it's not Moody. It's female, and young, and it sounds scared. So, _so_ scared.

I let out a shrill scream, the green unrelenting. It's not stopping… it's not…

"What's wrong with her?!" Moody's voice booms over the haunted whispers of the curse.

"She's not opening her eyes!" Emma shouts, and her slender hands grip my shoulders. I can't see anything but blinding, sickly light. Flashing and flashing and flashing and flashing and flashing and screaming-

"Hospital wing!" Moody demands, and two pairs of arms hoist me out of my chair. The voices are changing pitch now, loud and small and afraid and powerful.

"Help…." I whimper, before everything goes black.

 **A/N:**

 **DUNDUNDUN**

 **Thank you for reading! See you in the next chapter ;)**


	9. Chapter 8: Bedsides and Beliefs

Chapter 8

Green.

It's bright. Blinding, in fact, scorching my eyes and flashing repeatedly against my irises. Throbbing and looping and _not stopping-_

"Wren," a gentle voice says on my left. _Green green green green green_ -

"Wren." _Why can't I open my eyes?_ "Wren!"

"It's hard to open one's eyes after an attack," an older voice says. "She's awake- her eyes are moving. She's most likely struggling to open them. She can most likely hear you."

"She can hear me?" The voice asks breathlessly. "Alright. Wren, it's Emma. They're only letting two people in at a time. I came with Pearl, but she doesn't like hospitals. There's a whole crowd out there. Six or seven people, including Hermione - er, Granger, I mean. How have you made so many friends in barely a week of school?" She chuckles softly, and I strain against my confining eyelids. _Open open open green green green-_

"Ash and Dennis snuck out of Herbology to visit you," Emma continues. "Professor Sprout was ticked off, but when they explained, she actually gave them a point each. Not without a reprimand first, though. I don't think I've ever seen a redder face…" she trails off smoothly. "Anyway, they said you were still asleep. I thought I'd better come, and that's when others started to arrive." She inhales shakily, pausing for a second. Is she really this upset? Over someone she just met? I would look to see but the green behind my eyelids will not stop pulsing. _Make it stop make it stop make it stop -_

"Um… you've only been out for about six hours. I thought I'd come right after dinner… Pearl had me give you a box of Bertie Botts, whatever those are. I think it's candy… well, you'll probably know…" her voice trails off once again.

"Well, I'd better go. Sprout gave us a foot long essay on the anatomy of a shrivelfig. She'll give you an extension, of course. Anyways… please wake up soon. That was terrifying. It still is, really." Something shifts on my left, and I hear receding footsteps. A door opens and I hear muted chatter.

Footsteps approach now, one set. They're lighter than Emma's.

 _Open open open -_

"Wren?" A voice asks. Yes that's me. Temporarily out of service.

"It's Hermione," the voice continues, and my mouth starts to taste bitter. "Hermione Granger."

 _I know who you are, charity worker_! I want to scream.

 _So bright so loud so quiet hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt -_

"I heard someone saying you can't open your eyes or talk, so I thought since you could still hear me it'd be a good time to explain." Emma you traitor.

"Your great aunt approached me, and asked if I could just teach you the ropes of Hogwarts. Nothing more. I thought that if you had a friend in the fourth year, it would be easier to navigate. It was my idea to spend time with you as friends. You are actually someone I want to spend time with and get to know! Your great aunt merely asked for a mentor. You shouldn't blame her for my idea." Good idea- I'll blame both of you.

 _I need to open my eyes. Eyes eyes eyes open open open -_

"Her eyes are fluttering!" Hermione exclaims loudly. "Madame Pomfrey!" _Shhhhhhhhhhhh I'm trying Shhhhhhhhh -_

 _Green is fading the green is fading the green is fading -_

Colors surge into my vision, bursting. Bright lights flood my eyes, and I blink heavily. This doesn't feel worth making my consciousness known.

"You're awake dear!" Madame Pomfrey says, walking briskly over to me. "Excellent! You'll be allowed to return to your dorm tomorrow morning for a day of rest, and then you'll go about your normal activities." She eyes Hermione with a small smile. "You have another five minutes before the next group."

 _Don't leave me alone with her!_ I try to say telepathically to Madame Pomfrey, but the woman struts away quickly. _Oh_ _bloody hell._

"So you heard me," Hermione says quietly, helping me sit up. I want to hiss at her, but I feel like that would be crossing a line.

"I did."

"Don't blame her," she pleads, and my heart swells just a miniscule amount at her selflessness. Very brave of her to not ask for her own forgiveness, merely someone else's.

"What I want to know," I say calmly, looking her in the eye.. The brown of her irises are a refreshing change from my repeated visions of green. "Is why you pretended in the first place."

"Because I thought you'd be offended if I just showed you around and stopped." I raised an eyebrow. "Which, I suppose now, is an oversight on my part. I'm sorry Wren."

"Hmph."

"I just wanted to take the opportunity to apologize," Hermione continues, standing gracefully. "I hope that you're feeling better soon."

"Here's to hoping," I say bitterly, and shift just enough in my seat to express my discontinued interest in this conversation.

Hermione exits, her light footsteps tapping over to the heavy door. I examine the window across from me with interest, the gilded black iron patterned swirls stretching across the tarnished glass. Hogwarts has so many intricate details that I don't think I'll ever be able to appreciate them all.

Two new steps of footsteps approach me, and I turn back to the door. Celeste is jogging towards me, a grin breaking across her face, "Wren!"

"Hullo," I say humbly. Celeste wraps me in a long lasting hug, and only after her arms loosen do I get a look at who's behind her.

"Hello," Micayla says formally, her green and silver tie perfectly in place under her sweater.

"Hi," I say, as Celeste steps back. The stark contrast between the two is striking. Celeste's waist length shiny black hair swings against her robes, her bright yellow headband, tie, and emblem glowing against her pale skin. Her smile is bright and cheery, casually ecstatic. Micayla, however, has tied her hair into a messy braid against the nape of her neck. Her brown eyes glint as she clutches a book to her chest, and the emerald of her tie and emblem shine menacingly. The two couldn't be more different, yet here they are, together, next to me.

"What happened?" Micayla asked with almost indifference, which was most likely the most emotional she got.

"I fainted," I say plainly.

"How?!" Celeste exclaims, her smile morphing immediately into despair.

"I was in class, and Moody was performing the unforgivable spells, and he cast the killing curse-"

"Avada Kedavra," Micayla intercedes, and I flinch back unconsciously.

"Yeah. Er- so he cast that one, and then all I could see was light and hear voices, and then I blacked out."

"That's awful!" Celeste bemoans.

"I guess," I say, smiling. I don't want to go over it again. Celeste and Micayla will never know, but that experience was beyond frightening.

"It sounds like it brought up a difficult, forgotten memory," Micayla muses, drumming her fingers on her book. "Do you have any memories of The Killing Curse?"

"Well… some of my family were killed during the war," I say, treading carefully. "But I don't think I was there when it happened."

"Interesting…" Micayla mumbles.

"Anyway," I continue. "How's Hufflepuff, Celeste?"

"It's wonderful!" Celeste gushes, completely turned off from the topic of my blackout. "That prefect Cedric I was telling you about and his friends are tutoring some of the first years in History of Magic. It's amazing, because I desperately need it. And I made a friend, Alma, who I think you would really like. She spaces a lot during conversations, but she's _really_ good at flying. She showed me a picture of her at home. I think she might be on the Quidditch team next year!"

"That's awesome!" I say, having spaced out during the monologue just like Celeste's new friend would have. "I'd love to meet her. And how's Slytherin, Mic-"

I turn to Micayla, but she's no longer at my bedside. Instead, I can hear the heavy wooden door closing softly.

"That was… odd," Celeste trails off, furrowing her eyebrows. She holds the confused expression for a few seconds before launching into another tale of a new friend. "And I met this Ravenclaw named Sasha..."

I tune out the rest of her story which involved flying hats and spells backfiring. I nod along occasionally, my brain distracted by what Micayla had said earlier. _A memory of the Killing Curse._ I hadn't been there… right? My mother had said I was with her at Aunt Minnie's. I was at Aunt Minnie's… I had to have been.

I finally snap back to attention when Celeste cuts off her story, "Anyway, I should probably go to the study group." She gives me her equivalent of a sad smile, which for her is merely a shining beam. "I'll see you at breakfast?"

"Of course," I say, smiling in return. Celeste nods giddily, before exiting the hospital wing with a flounce. I look to see if Madame Pomfrey is approaching me, but don't catch a glimpse of the grey haired nurse. I take the box of Bertie Botts that Pearl gave me, and pop it open. I carefully snag a light green one from against the side, and pop it into my mouth. Key lime pie, thank god. Next to my bed is my school bag, from which I pull out a piece of parchment and a previously inked quill. I think for a moment, chewing slowly on the jelly bean, before starting to scrawl on the yellowed parchment.

 _Dear Mum, I have a few questions for you..._


End file.
